


The Weight

by legionsofsorrow



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mild Smut, No Fluff, Post-Season Zero (Carmilla)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 07:16:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6601783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legionsofsorrow/pseuds/legionsofsorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sure a supernatural afterlife had endowed her with a generous amount of strength. She’d pushed the lid off of her coffin with ease, twice. Dug her way out of the Earth and it’s rubble, past other captives encased in a sleep from which they would never wake, a weight they couldn’t move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight

Sure a supernatural afterlife had endowed her with a generous amount of strength. She’d pushed the lid off of her coffin with ease, twice. Dug her way out of the Earth and it’s rubble, past other captives encased in a sleep from which they would never wake, a weight they couldn’t move.

For centuries burly men struggled to breathe against her tight grasp, feet dangling inches from the floor, eyes focusing in on the harbinger of their death. They meant nothing to her when their drained and lifeless forms fell at her feet. She stepped over them with ease, no guilt, no heavy heart. 

The chains around her neck were weightless. She could have shrugged them off and torn out Vordenberg's throat if she wanted to. 

Laura carried the guilt between her eyebrows. It was sinking, all encompassing, she was Atlas and she couldn’t put it down. Carmilla had become numb to that remnant of her humanity. Guilt was something of the past, something for mortals to sort out. Yet, the weight Laura carried was not entirely lost on her.

She felt the weight of Laura’s body moving onto hers in the night. Laura wasn’t gentle when she crushed her lips against Carmilla’s, leaving the Vampire’s unscathed but surely bruising her own lips in the process. She slipped her hand under Carmilla’s shirt, her fist pressing onto her breastbone. She put all of her strength into pushing her hand into Carmilla’s chest, but to no avail. 

Carmilla didn’t move, she would not risk waking up from this dream, or give Laura a reason to stop removing her tank top and sweatpants. She simply laid beneath the weight of the golden haired Goddess of Grief and let her dig her fingers into her ribs, small hands pressing her into the Earth. 

She would allow herself to be placed in the ground a third time, but only if Laura was the one doing to digging, holding the shovel.

Laura pressed her face into Carmilla’s hip before biting down. A mark that would disappear by morning but a pain in Laura’s jaw that would take days to heal. She looked up towards her Angel of Death before pushing her fingers inside. Laura did not tease or drag it out, she did not make love to the Vampire who shuttered beneath her. Instead, she destroyed the weight that had torn them apart, the moral compass that spun and spun leaving her dizzy and clouded by a grey world. She conquered the doubt that left them bound in opposition, she conquered the creature beneath her who willfully unraveled at her touch. 

She would make any sacrifice required at the altar of the power that be to keep Carmilla. She would kill Vordenberg again, and again. She would slit animal’s throats with mercy, bleed humans dry, perhaps with slightly less mercy and would forge weapons against supernatural forces that sought to take Carmilla from her. 

Carmilla twisted her fingers around heavy locks while Laura’s purposeful tongue darted out firmly against her clit. Laura had not felt Carmilla shutter beneath her multiple times. Her teeth, tongue and lips continued their assault making up for the lost time. Dull nails dug into Carmilla's hips, thighs and bottom. Hands held hips steady while she worked her mouth relentlessly against tender flesh. 

She had been loathe to stop Laura’s ministrations, to discourage the human from continuing a sojourn that kept her face between her thighs but the sensitivity was becoming too much. Carmilla cupped the beauty’s face in her hands and silently begged for reprieve. 

Laura collapsed heavily onto the Vampire and buried her face in cool skin and silky hair. Carmilla was bound to the weight of it. Not to death, or the grave, nor to the guilt that centuries of killing should have surely brought her, but instead to the human soul above her, weighing her down. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always thanks for reading!


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